'The passion I felt, Martin, when I dared not do this,' he said, 'was
in the blow I struck just now. Why did we ever part! How could we ever
part! How could you ever fly from me to him!'
Martin was about to answer, but he stopped him, and went on.
'The fault was mine no less than yours. Mark has told me so today, and
I have known it long; though not so long as I might have done. Mary, my
love, come here.'
As she trembled and was very pale, he sat her in his own chair, and
stood beside it with her hand in his; and Martin standing by him.
'The curse of our house,' said the old man, looking kindly down upon
her, 'has been the love of self; has ever been the love of self. How
often have I said so, when I never knew that I had wrought it upon
others.'
He drew one hand through Martin's arm, and standing so, between them,
proceeded thus:
'You all know how I bred this orphan up, to tend me. None of you can
know by what degrees I have come to regard her as a daughter; for
she has won upon me, by her self-forgetfulness, her tenderness, her
patience, all the goodness of her nature, when Heaven is her witness
that I took but little pains to draw it forth.
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